CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
THE LIFE OF THE FREE.
"Here," cried the man, as he recovered himself, "it's of no use. Comeback!"
Dexter was so influenced by the man's words that he was ready to go backat once. But Bob was made of different stuff, and he began now to workthe boat along by paddling softly, fish-tail fashion.
"Do you hear!" roared the man, just as the other came trotting up, quiteout of breath.
"Yah!" cried Bob derisively, as he began to feel safe. "Come back, youyoung scoundrel!" roared the man fiercely. "Here, Digges, fetch 'emback."
He was a big black-whiskered man in a velveteen jacket, evidently agamekeeper, and he spoke to his companion as if he were a dog.
This man hesitated for a moment or two.
"Go on! Fetch 'em back," cried the keeper.
"But it's so wet."
"Wet? Well, do you want me to go? In with you."
The underkeeper jumped off the bank at once into the water, which wasabout up to his knees; but by this time Bob was working the boat alongmore quickly, and before the underkeeper had waded out many yards Bobhad seated himself, put out the second scull, and, helped by the stream,was able to laugh defiance at his would-be captors.
"Here, I ain't going any further," grumbled the underkeeper. "It willbe deep water directly," and he stopped with the current rippling justabout his thigh.
"Are you coming back!" cried the keeper, looking round about him andpretending to pick up a big stone.
"No! Come arter us if you want us," cried Bob, while Dexter croucheddown watching the man's hand, ready to dodge the missile he expected tosee launched at them.
"If you don't come back I'll--"
The man did not finish his speech, but threw himself back as if about tohurl the stone.
"Yah!" cried Bob. "Y'ain't got no stone."
"No, but I've got a boat up yonder."
"Go and fetch it, then," cried Bob derisively.
"You young scoundrels! Landing here and destroying our plantations.I'll send the police after you, and have you before the magistrates, youpoaching young vagabonds!"
"So are you!" cried Bob.
"Hush, don't!" whispered Dexter.
"Who cares for them?" cried Bob. "We weren't doing no harm."
"Here, come out, Digges, and you run across and send the men with a boatthat way. I'll go and get ours. We'll soon have 'em!"
The man slowly waded out while the keeper trampled on the fire, stampingall over it, to extinguish the last spark, so that it should not spread,and then they separated, going in different directions.
"Row, Bob; row hard," cried Dexter, who was in agony.
"Well, I am a-rowing, ain't I? We warn't doing no harm."
"Let me have an oar."
"Ketch hold, then," cried Bob; and as soon as Dexter was seated theybegan to row as if for their lives, watching in turn the side of theriver and the reach they were leaving behind in expectation of seeingthe pursuers and the party who were to cut them off.
Dexter's horror increased. He pictured himself seized and taken beforea magistrate, charged with damaging, burning, and trespassing. Theperspiration began to stand out in beads upon each side of his nose, hishair grew wet, and his cap stuck to his forehead as he toiled away athis oar, trying hard to obey the injunctions of his companion to pullsteady--to keep time--not to dip his scull so deep, and the like.
As for Bob, as he rowed he was constantly uttering derisive and defiantremarks; but all the same his grubby face was rather ashy, and he toogrew tremendously hot as he worked away at his scull for quite an hour,during which time they had not seen anything more formidable than half adozen red oxen standing knee-deep in the water, and swinging their tailsto and fro to drive away the tormenting flies.
"They hadn't got no boat," said Bob at last. "I know'd it all the time.Pretended to throw a stone at us when there wasn't one near, only theone we tried to cook with, flee him take hold of it and drop it again!"
"No."
"I did. Burnt his jolly old fingers, and serve him right. We neversaid nothing to him. He ain't everybody."
"But let's get further away."
"Well, we're getting further away, stream's taking us down. You are acoward."
"You were frightened too."
"No, I wasn't. I laughed at him. I'd ha' give him something if he'dtouched me."
"Then why did you run away?"
"'Cause I didn't want no bother. Here, let's find another good place,and catch some more fish."
"It won't be safe to stop yet, Bob."
"Here, don't you talk to me, I know what I'm about. We'll row roundthat next bend, and I'll show you a game then."
"Hadn't we better go on till we can buy some bread and butter?" saidDexter; and then as he saw some cattle in a field a happyhunger-engendered thought occurred to him,--"And perhaps we can get somemilk."
"You're allus thinking of eating and drinking," cried Bob. "All right!We'll get some, then."
They rowed steadily on, with Dexter rapidly improving in the managementof his oar, till a farm-house was sighted near the bank; but it was onthe same side as that upon which they had had their adventure.
They were afraid to land there, so rowed on for another quarter of amile before another building was sighted.
This proved to be a farm, and they rowed up to a place where the cattlecame down to drink, and a plank ran out on to a couple of posts,evidently for convenience in landing from a boat, or for dipping water.
"Here, I'll go this time," said Bob, as the boat glided up against theposts. "No games, you know."
"What games!"
"No going off and leaving a fellow!"
"Don't be afraid," said Dexter.
"I ain't," said Bob, with a malicious grin. "Why, if a fellow was toserve me such a trick as that I should half-kill him."
Bob landed, and as Dexter sat there in the swift-streamed Devon rivergazing at the rippling water, and the glorious green pastures andquickly sloping hills, everything seemed to him very beautiful, and hecould not help wishing that he had a pleasanter companion and somedinner.
Bob soon returned with a wine bottle full of milk and half a loaf, and agreat pat of butter of golden yellow, with a wonderful cow printed uponit, the butter being wrapped in a rhubarb leaf, and the bread swung inBob's dirty neckerchief.
"Here y'are!" he cried, as he stepped into the boat and pushed offquickly, as if he felt safer when they were on the move. "We'll golower down, and then I'll show you such a game."
"Let's have some bread and butter first," said Dexter.
"No, we won't; not till we get further away. We'll get some fish firstand light a fire and cook 'em, and--pull away--I'll show yer."
Dexter obeyed; but his curiosity was excited.
"Going to catch some more fish!"
"You wait and you'll see," was the reply; and in the expectation of ahearty meal matters looked more bright, especially as the day wasglorious, and the scenery beautiful all round.
No signs of pursuit being seen, Dexter was ready to laugh with hiscompanion now.
"I knew all the time," said Bob, with superior wisdom in everyintonation of his voice; "I should only have liked to see them come."
Dexter said nothing, and the next minute, as they were in a curve of theriver, where it flowed dark and deep, they ran the boat in once morebeside a meadow edged with pollard willows.
"Now then, I'll show you some fishing," cried Bob, as he secured theboat.
"No, not now: let's have something to eat first," protested Dexter.
"Just you look here, young un, I'm captain," cried Bob. "Do you knowwhat cray-fish are!"
Dexter shook his head.
"Well, then, I'm just going to show yer."
The water was about two feet deep, and ran slowly along by aperpendicular clayey bank on the side where they were, and, deliberatelyundressing, Bob let himself down into the river, and then began to gropealong by the
side, stooping from time to time to thrust his hand intosome hole.
"Here, undo that chain, and let her drift by me," he cried. "I shallfish all along here."
Dexter obeyed--it seemed to be his fate to obey; and taking theboat-hook he held on easily enough by tree after tree, for there wasscarcely any stream here, watching intently the while, as Bob kept onthrusting his hand into some hole.
"Oh!" cried Bob suddenly, as he leaned down as far as he could reach,and then rose slowly.
"Got one?"
"No: I missed him. It was an eel; I just felt him, and then he dodgedback. Such a big un! They're so jolly hard to hold."
This was exciting, and now Dexter began for the first time to be gladthat he had come.
"I've got him now!" cried Bob excitedly; and, rising from a stoopingposition, in which his shoulder was right underneath, he threw adingy-looking little fresh-water lobster into the boat.
Dexter examined it wonderingly, and was favoured with a nip from itsclaws for his attention.
"Here's another," said Bob, and he threw one much larger into the boat,its horny shell rattling on the bottom.
"Are they good to eat?" said Dexter.
"Good to eat? Why, they're lovely. You wait a bit. And, I say, youlook how I do it; I shall make you always catch these here, so you'vegot to learn."
Dexter paid attention to the process, and felt that there was not muchto learn: only to find out a hole--the burrow of the cray-fish,--andthen thrust in his hand, and, if the little crustacean were at home,pull it out. The process was soon learned, but the temptation to beginwas not great.
Bob evidently found the sport exciting, however, for he searched awaywith more or less success, and very soon there were a dozen cray-fish ofvarious sizes crawling about the bottom of the boat.
"There's thousands of them here," cried Bob, as he searched away allalong beneath the steep bank, which was full of holes, some being thehomes of rats, some those of the cray-fish, and others of eels which hetouched twice over--in one case for the slimy fish to back further in,but in the other, for it to make a rush out into the open water, andswim rapidly away.
The pursuit of the cray-fish lasted till the row of willows came to anend, and with them the steep bank, the river spreading out again, andbecoming stony and shallow.
"How many are there?" said Bob, as he climbed out upon the grass, afterwashing his clayey arm.
"Twenty-one," said Dexter.
"Ah, just you wait a bit till I'm dressed."
Bob said no more, but indulged in a natural towel. That is to say, hehad a roll on the warm grass, and then rose and ran to and fro in theglowing sunshine for about five minutes, after which he rapidly slippedon his things, which were handed to him from the boat.
"Now," he cried, as he stepped in once more and seized an oar, "I'llshow you something."
They rowed on for some distance, till a suitable spot was found at theedge of a low, scrubby oak wood which ran up a high bank.
The place was extremely solitary. There was plenty of wood, and as soonas the boat had been moored Dexter was set to work collecting the sticksin a heap, close up to where there was a steep bare piece of stony bank,and in a few minutes the dry leaves and grass first collected caughtfire, then the twigs, and soon a good glowing fire was burning.
The bread and butter and bottle of milk were stood on one side, andclose by them there was a peculiar noise made by the unhappy cray-fishwhich were tied up in Bob's neckerchief, from which the bread had beenreleased.
"Going to cook 'em!" he said; "in course I am. Wait a bit and I'll showyer. I say! this is something like a place, ain't it!"
Dexter agreed that it was, for it was a sylvan nook which a lover ofpicnics would have considered perfect, the stream ran swiftly by, a fewyards away the stony bank rose up, dotted with patches of brown furzeand heath, nearly perpendicularly above their heads, and on either sidethey were shut in by trees and great mossy stones.
The fire burned brightly, and sent up clouds of smoke, which exciteddread in Dexter's breast for a few moments, but the fear was forgottendirectly in the anticipation of the coming feast, in preparation forwhich Bob kept on adding to the central flame the burnt-through piecesof dead wood, while Dexter from time to time fetched more from the amplestore beneath the trees, and broke them off ready for his chief.
"What are you going to do, Bob!" he said at last.
"Going to do? You want to know too much."
"Well, I'm so hungry."
"Well, I'll tell yer. I'm going to roast them cray-fish, that's whatI'm going to do."
"How are you going to kill them!"
"Going to kill 'em? I ain't going to kill 'em."
"But you won't roast them alive."
"Won't I? Just you wait till there's plenty of hot ashes and you'llsee."
Dexter had made pets of so many creatures that he shrank from inflictingpain, and he looked on at last with something like horror as Bob untiedhis kerchief, shot all the cray-fish out on the heathy ground, and then,scraping back the glowing embers with his foot till he had left a barepatch of white ash, he rapidly thrust in the captives, which began tohiss and steam and whistle directly.
The whistling noise might easily have been interpreted to mean a cry ofpain, but the heat was so great that doubtless death was instantaneous,and there was something in what the boy said in reply to Dexter'sprotests.
"Get out! It don't hurt 'em much."
"But you might have killed them first."
"How was I to kill 'em first?" snarled Bob, as he sat tailor fashion andpoked the cray-fish into warmer places with a piece of burning stick.
"Stuck your knife into them."
"Well, wouldn't that have hurt 'em just as much?"
"Let them die before you cooked them."
"That would hurt 'em ever so much more, and took ever so much longer."
"Well I shan't like to eat them," said Dexter.
"More for me, then. I say! don't they smell good?"
Dexter had a whiff just then, and they certainly did smell tempting to ahungry boy; but he made up his mind to partake only of bread and butter,and kept to his determination for quite five minutes after Bob haddeclared the cookery complete, and picked the tiny lobsters out of thehot ashes with his burnt stick.
"They're too hot to touch yet," he said. "Wait a bit and I'll show you.Cut the bread."
Dexter obeyed with alacrity, and was soon feasting away on what mightvery well be called "Boy's Delight," the honest bread and butter whichhas helped to build up our stalwart race.
Bob helped himself to a piece of bread, spread it thickly with butter,and, withdrawing a little way from the fire, hooked a hot cray-fish tohis side, calmly picking out the largest; and as soon as he could handleit he treated it as if it were a gigantic shrimp, dividing the shell inthe middle by pulling, and holding up the delicate hot tail, which dreweasily from its armour-like case.
"Only wants a bit of salt," he cried, smacking his lips over the little_bonne bouche_, and then proceeding to pick out the contents of theclaws, and as much of the body as he deemed good to eat.
Dexter looked on with a feeling of disgust, while Bob laughed at him,and finished four of the cray-fish, throwing the shells over hisshoulder towards the river.
Then Dexter picked up one, drew off the shell, smelt it, tasted it, andfive minutes later he was as busy as Bob, though when they finished thewhole cooking he was seven fish behind.
"Ain't they 'lishus?" cried Bob.
"Yes," said Dexter, unconsciously repeating his companion's firstremark, "only want a bit of salt."